Site update: Still having problems with my website access. Sometimes it displays, sometimes it doesn't. It's definitely not on my end considering there's pretty much no one else in the office this week. I'm dreading the conversation that's about to ensue with my host. I expect it will be like last time (which I can't link, since I can't browse to find the previous posts) which was a back and forth that was left unresolved because I got so damned irritated. I'm already more frustrated than a weiner dog with small testicles.
Some actual bona fide local drama has come up to the surface recently. In no particular order of importance they are:
Police in Wigan have dirtbikes. According to this article the police have been given offroad motorcycles to track down the scum using the old mines for fun. They don't appear to be doing a very good job in our neighborhood though, just yesterday two local idiots came buzzing past without helmets from Kennington Flash. Mr. Me and I prayed they would fall off but alas, we went unanswered by an apathetic god.
It's only a real problem in that they're loud, irritating and often driven by people who can barely tie their shoelaces. I wouldn't entrust the operation of a toaster to most of the adults nevermind something that could run over cats. I expect this thing is just hot air. I have very little faith in the capacity of Wigan Council to do anything proactive.
Well, except for move some gypsies on from Platt Bridge.
For a few months a proper pikey camp had landed in Platt Bridge. We were throughly entertained by their presence since I'd not really seen modern gypsies before and was hugely curious. I was not disappointed. They came by in caravans with lots of dogs and one had a great lamp sat at the table with golden beads hanging from it. They even had real Snatch accents. When they came in to the salon to ask for acrylic toenails with said accents Mr. Me could barely contain his joy.
Even more interesting was the potential for social commentary. I'd heard that travellers weren't exactly welcome in a lot of places but hadn't ever seen the prejudice first hand. I expected a little of it since it's the type of place where most people know most people and only certain types of outsiders are accepted.
It's so closed that the people who have been working at the Coop for 5+ years easily remember who I am though my visits are only about every 6 months. I walk in and they grab the brand of cigarettes I smoke in packs of 20. Seriously. So I waited desperately for at least one of Mr. Me's clients to complain about them being right in their backyards and how horrible it was. Just to see if what I'd already experienced on television was true. It finally happened last week that some of the local menfolk were going to go around and give them a seeing to. Took a bit longer than I expected.
Yesterday Mr. Me went around to drop some stuff off at the salon from the wholesalers. As he entered the parking lot a mass exodus of caravans began. He said it was like a military training mission, all in perfect formation. Whilst he was putting his stuff away one of his coworkers said 'What's a Tactical Aid Unit?' To which he responded 'Er, the people with guns.' Apparently about 3/4 of the police in Wigan had turned up less than 5 minutes after the gypsy migration.
The only information I've been able to find is from this barely literate thread on Leigh life about some others just off the road. I think it's likely that the ones near us were ordered out as well.
I must say though, the site they left behind is clean as anything.
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